


Dreams of Hanamura

by besselfcn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bath Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sibling Incest, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 07:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17576561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besselfcn/pseuds/besselfcn
Summary: “Anija,” Genji calls from the bath in his lilting voice, the alluring sparrow’s call. “Come join me, won’t you?”





	Dreams of Hanamura

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciencefictioness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/gifts).



> Happy birthday, dearest Sci. May your days be filled with very sad boys and very soft endings.

“Anija,” Genji calls from the bath in his lilting voice, the alluring sparrow’s call. “Come join me, won’t you?”

Hanzo, perched at the edge of the bed, scrapes blood from under his fingernails with the point of a pocket blade.

His stomach is still untangling itself after the job they’d run. It was nothing exceptional--a petulant businessman hiding in the American city of Chicago, come to heel at the edge of the Shimada brothers’ blades--but Hanzo’s body always holds the memory of a kill longer than his conscience does.

They were meant to fly back to Hanamura tonight, but a fierce snowstorm had set in over the city and the jet could not land. Genji had, as Genji does, taken it in stride. Booked a room in a luxury hotel owned by one of their allies with nothing more than a mention of their father’s name.

“Anija,” Genji calls again, and Hanzo hears the soft splash of the bathwater, and he cannot resist standing to move towards the door any longer.

When he opens the door, Genji is staring right at him. It’s a large bath, large enough that Genji’s feet don’t quite reach the other end of the basin. His head is tilted back to rest on the rim of the tub, his arm draped over the side with lithe fingers barely brushing the tile floor. He looks, above anything else, relaxed.

“Come here,” Genji says, gentle, and Hanzo does not allow himself to think before he strips the sweat-stiffened clothes from his body and walks forwards towards the tub.

Genji makes space for him. Genji always makes space. When Hanzo slips into the bathwater opposite his brother, Genji’s legs curl up to give him room to stand, then gently stretch out again and settle on either side of Hanzo’s hips. The water is clear enough that he can see all of Genji, and he knows Genji can see all of him; all the places their bodies are the same, and all the places they are different.

Hanzo slowly undoes the bun at the back of his head and lets the edges of his hair wet themselves in the water. Genji’s watching. It makes his chest tighten.

Genji must notice, because he tilts his head back again. Looks away. Bares his neck. “No one is here but us, anija,” he says, eyes closed. “We’re free for the night.”

Free. Hanzo almost wants to laugh. Free for the night, is that what Genji wants to call it? When they are trapped here, as they would be trapped anywhere else? When they will face the eyes of the clan tomorrow and Hanzo will think, with every fiber of his body, _they know_? When Hanzo can still see the finger-shaped bruises that line Genji’s throat and thighs and hips, barely faded?

“Hanzo,” Genji says, and his hands are suddenly at Hanzo’s shoulders, tracing lines along his forearms and down the swirling patterning of his dragon tattoo. “Let yourself stop thinking. Just for a moment.”

Stop thinking. Hanzo leans into that. into Genji’s voice. Stop thinking. He’s good at that. Letting himself float away, focusing his eyes on something else, the stippled patterning of the grout tile; let him do whatever he wants, it’s easier if you don’t fight it--

“Hanzo.”

He snaps suddenly back to the present; back to Genji, back to Chicago, torn so suddenly out of Hanamura that his head spins.

“It’s me,” Genji says, desperate and injured. Hanzo nods. Of course it is. It’s always been Genji.

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo rasps. “I was…”

“I know,” Genji whispers. His body moves, smooth as the water. His knee is between Hanzo’s thigh now. His hand is spread across Hanzo’s cheek. Gentle touches. Holding the connection between them. Grounding. “Can I? Do you want to?”

Hanzo’s throat catches. _Do you want to_. Does he? _Want_ is difficult. _Want_ is something he is not allowed to have. _Need_ is something closer, less forbidden. He needs this. Like he needs to eat, and sleep, and breathe. Necessary for survival.

“Please,” he says, and lets his head drop back, and Genji curls a hand around him and his body _needs_.

He needs to be closer; he needs to feel warmth and comfort beneath his palms; he needs Genji’s mouth on his throat, pressed over the shadows of dragon teeth. He lets his muscles relax, reaches a hand out to touch Genji’s hip, his back, tracing the glowing green outline of his spine.

He lets Genji move the two of them; he loses himself in it, something close to what Genji means when he says not to think. He can’t let go like Genji does; there is still a cold knot in the back of his mind, pushed aside just for now. But he can feel, and taste, and touch. He exists now in the present more than he has in weeks.

When he comes it surprises him, feet suddenly scrabbling for purchase against the basin, and Genji laughs and holds him and strokes him through it while he whispers _that’s it, come on, I’ve got you. I’ve got you._

Genji must get them out of the bath somehow; Hanzo doesn’t remember. He must dry them off, and take them to bed, and curl himself up in Hanzo’s arms, feet pressed up against Hanzo’s thighs for warmth. He must because this is where Hanzo finds himself, when his mind starts up again, eyes blinking slowly, returned from the haze of pleasure and emptiness and the faintest hints of fear that an orgasm always brings.

“You’re back,” Genji says with a grin. Hanzo wraps his arms tighter.

“You didn’t….” he starts, and trails off.

Genji shakes his head. “I don’t want to,” he says. “Not tonight. This is enough.”

Hanzo runs his fingers through the green shock of his brother’s hair, and he stares out into the raging storm that blankets the city, and he nods.

This is enough.


End file.
